We head inside.The lodge is warm, loud with chatter, luckily louder than my current heartbeat.
"So," he says as we near the counter, "who was at fault?You weren't looking, or you caught an edge?"
"Why me?"I say."I think you changed direction at the last second.I had the line."
He smirks."Or maybe you were skiing GS skis, too aggressive for a lady."
"I'm a bold lady," I say."Though you're right.I brought them to test before the season starts.And I have been suffering since I put them on.I wonder when they bite my head off."
"And the terrain's already too mushy for the long boards."
"Yep."
We reach the counter.I order a Radler, a barely alcoholic drink, but it feels like I've earned it.
He orders a coffee, then glances at me, a playful spark in his eye.
"You know," he says as we wait, "I get a lot of fans.Skiers, too.But they usually settle for a selfie."
I arch an eyebrow."You saying I'm not the usual?"
"I'm saying you're interesting."
The barman hands him the coffee, and he nods without paying.Looks like the ski federation keeps an open tab here.
"Listen," he says, passing me my drink, "since I may or may not have caused a crash and a minor public incident… I think I owe you."
"Oh, absolutely," I say solemnly."I was thinking a drink.But I'd also accept lifetime race tickets and a signed poster."
"How about dinner instead?"
There's something unreadable in his voice.Like he's offering more than dinner, or maybe just testing if I'll flinch.
I blink."Dinner?"
"Unless you're holding out for the poster."
I catch myself smiling."Dinner sounds fair.As long as it comes with a full apology.And a ski critique."
"Done," he says, handing me my glass.
We walk back to the table.My legs feel unsteady.Not just from the fall, but from walking next to someone whose face has lived on my screen for years.
"Well," Maddie says slowly, voice laced with mock suspicion."That took a while.Did he offer you a signed race suit or his heart?"
Thomas laughs and shrugs."She's a tough negotiator."
"She is," Maddie agrees."But for the record, I'd like a selfie.I don't crush into sports heroes, I wait for them to come to my table."
We all laugh, the awkwardness of the crash melting into something warmer.I watch him walk away and breathe out, suddenly aware of how tense my body was for the past hour.
"You know," Maddie starts."I knew you would like to get some precious contacts with all those ski-racing people around.But knowing you, I'd say you'd crash into their coach or federation director."
"I did not plan it!"
"Of course, you haven't," Maddie nods her eyes sparkling."He bewitched you with those elegant turns and that muscular body defying gravity."
I don't answer.Because she's right, of course.I did not come here to flirt with superstars.If anything, I hoped to make contacts I could leverage later.Freelancing provides me with enough money to pay my bills, but I need a way in if I want to build a career in the skiing media industry.Maddie got in last year, working as a social media manager for the American World Cup squad.
